I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun

Chapter 743

"To think that construction has progressed this far in just a month... While this part is certainly optimistic, the real issue is building the infrastructure to support tens of thousands of people and ensuring the delivery of food supplies."

"There's nothing we can do about that. For that reason, the allied forces must secure the major cities in the northeastern U.S. as quickly as possible, and prepare to facilitate food transport."

"If we hadn’t lost control of the Pacific, we would have focused on landing on the U.S. West Coast and drawn up operations around that, but... it’s unfortunate. I know the effort it took to return isn’t something to be taken lightly."

"...."

Early August, Newfoundland Island.

An isolated, almost unheard-of place to anyone except those from Canada, and even most Canadians would probably never visit in their lifetime. Newfoundland sits at the extreme east of Canada, home to the only airport on the island—St. John’s International Airport, located in the city of St. John's, the only city on the island. Normally, it would be a place with no reason to be crowded, but thousands of people had gathered there.

Looking closer, it was immediately obvious that the people gathered there were unusual for such a small town. Many were of East Asian or Slavic descent, with features that would stand out from most Canadians.

Two soldiers stood guard as construction continued in real-time on numerous facilities.

One was Chinese, the other Russian. Their shoulder epaulets bore different insignia, yet both had equivalent ranks.

The Chinese soldier belonged to China’s 127th and 128th Airborne Brigades, as well as the Thunder Assault Brigade. The Russian soldier, meanwhile, was part of Russia’s 106th Guards Airborne Division. The two divisions together amounted to roughly one or two divisions of operational combat units.

The two high-ranking officers, having been promoted to Major General, were now stationed at St. John’s International Airport to oversee the new forces and supervise the growing construction.

The first to speak was the Chinese officer.

"The Central Military Commission of the Chinese Communist Party has received information on Jorden Amherst. I’m not sure if it’s been discussed at Allied Command, but I suspect it’s similar on their end."

"...What does that mean?"

"On a separate note, the Central Military Commission wants to recover Dr. Jorden Amherst's research materials. Haven’t you heard anything about that?"

"I’ve heard about Jorden Amherst, but there’s been no specific word yet. I think Command is discussing it internally, but the conclusion will probably be similar."

"...We’ve been ordered to send the Thunder Assault Brigade to Boston. They’re consolidating command from across various theaters."

"Mm."

A brief silence.

However, Major General Liu Chuan, commanding the Chinese forces, sensed some discomfort in the response and waited for an answer rather than pressing for one.

After a pause, the conversation continued.

"The Russian military command can receive more detailed data from Artemis."

"..."

"You might find this unpleasant to hear, but Russia isn’t that interested in Jorden Amherst. However... they’re extremely interested in the Icarus Operators."

"The Icarus Operators. I think I’ve heard of them."

"They are the reason the U.S. is still holding on."

Again, a brief silence.

But it was true. At least, when it came to information warfare, Russia had the upper hand. Of course, this didn’t mean they had the advantage overall—it was just the case when it came to Artemis-related matters.

Normally, that fact wouldn’t have been all that significant. In a world where major powers were colliding, one defense contractor probably wouldn’t play such a pivotal role.

But that only applied to typical situations. When it came to the development of Icarus Gear and the outcomes achieved by operators using it...

The conversation resumed with Major General Alexei adding:

"One of the divisions stationed in Lower Manhattan disappeared without a trace, and a strategic nuclear submarine was seized without any warning. It’s a devastating loss for the Allied forces. And it was all done by a single operation team."

"...That’s right."

"Most of the cause can be traced back to those idiots getting too complacent in New Haven, but that doesn’t mean we can just ignore what happened. And..."

A brief pause.

Then, the conversation continued.

"Had we learned anything from that disaster about the enemy operators, I could understand. But if it happened without any results, well... you and I both need to reconsider the discipline of our forces."

"...Hmmm."

"Perhaps you don’t know yet, but I’ve already given Ulrich, the Guard General, instructions. I’ve asked him to compile a list of soldiers who are showing signs of ‘unpatriotic’ thoughts—whether ideological or mental."

Military requisition of supplies during operations is excusable.

A certain degree of disorder is understandable in managing the stresses of soldiers.

However, misusing resources and weapons, particularly after the recent naval battles that wiped out more than half of the Allied forces, was absolutely unacceptable.

China’s Northern Fleet had been reduced by more than half, and the Southern and Eastern Fleets were entirely wiped out.

Russia wasn’t any different. The Pacific Fleet, stationed in Vladivostok and tasked with pressuring both South Korea and Japan, had been utterly annihilated by the U.S. Navy’s 7th Fleet, which had managed to recover from its damage.

Military losses weren’t just about a 30% to 50% casualty rate. No, in these cases, the fleets were entirely destroyed—turning into piles of scrap metal and human remains.

China no longer had a navy, and Russia’s second most powerful fleet, the Pacific Fleet, had been turned into molten metal.

Despite that, the U.S. Navy’s strongest fleets, the 3rd and 7th, were far from obliterated.

Major General Alexei, who had been casually observing, spoke again.

"Did you say early August? We’ll need to prepare the list of soldiers who’ll be joining the Thunder Assault Brigade by then."

"...How do you plan on using them?"

"I’ve heard that Icarus Operators are using unimaginable new weapons. In particular, one operation team has been reported to have combat abilities far beyond human capabilities."

A brief silence.

Then, the Russian officer responded.

"You don’t mean..."

"Yes, that’s exactly what I mean."

Alexei took a drag from his nearly finished cigarette, flicking it into the ashtray. He looked down with a peculiar expression, while Liu Chuan, eyeing him, began to sense the deeper implications of what was being said.

Perhaps among the "unpatriotic" soldiers Alexei had mentioned, there were likely some who weren’t unpatriotic at all. This was the kind of political maneuvering that was inescapable within the military, leading to outcomes like this.

But none of that mattered. What mattered was that Alexei saw an opportunity in what had been said. The foolish mistakes made by others could be turned into an opportunity for him.

As the two high-ranking officers stood together under the newly constructed military lounge, busy soldiers bustling around them, Liu Chuan nodded thoughtfully.

"We’ll also need to filter out the disloyal soldiers on our end."

"You see what I mean. Even the disloyal soldiers could be useful if we face off against that mysterious operation team and collect data in the process. If that ends up being their last mission, it would be acceptable."

A brief silence.

And then, Alexei added:

"You’re expecting the operation in Boston to fail, aren’t you?"

"Artemis did everything they could to stop them. Objectively speaking, they never should’ve lost to the remnants of the U.S. forces. But they were cleanly wiped out. It wasn’t by chance."

Could it really have been like that?

Given the limited information available, it was too early to judge, but the results spoke for themselves. The fact that two strategic nuclear submarines had ended up in U.S. hands wasn’t a coincidence.

After a short moment of silence, both officers looked up to the sky. The weather was calm. It wasn’t particularly hot for the end of July, especially since they were stationed at a latitude higher than New York.

"..."

"Artemis installed alarms at the facility where Jorden Amherst worked. As soon as the alarm goes off, the command staff plans to launch missiles and deploy troops waiting 160 km north in Portland."

"Got it. I’ll keep that in mind. We’ll cooperate soon enough."

The preliminary battles were over, and the Allied forces had suffered a severe defeat.

What would happen if they lost here too? No one knew the answer. While curious, they didn’t want to know the answer. But one thing was certain... if they lost, they would no longer have a foothold in this world.

The world remained quiet, and the unprecedented months of August and September were approaching.

"Is there anyone here from Boston?"

"Boston? That boring, geeky city? Do you think anyone living there would join the military?"

"Well, Loren Tina is from Vermont, so... it's the closest to Boston, but it’s still far enough to not make much of a difference. As for Logan, he's from Alaska."

"Hey, if we had stayed in those nerdy neighborhoods around Boston, we wouldn't even have time to take fitness tests, let alone be useful."

"Alright, alright."

We all knew the truth—no one from the Dagger Team had ever been to Boston, and no one had much of a connection to it. Even I, a natural-born Korean, had no idea about it.

"Harvard, Boston University, MIT, Berklee School of Music, Wellesley College... It’s practically one big university town. Now there won’t even be anyone to pay tuition for those schools."

"At least it’s safer than New York with its crime-ridden metro area. As long as there are still sane people around, we won’t have to worry too much."

"According to the reconnaissance, there aren’t many silhouettes around. It looks like only a few survivors are scattered about. No sign of Artemis' involvement."

"Well, no one knows what will happen. But since it’s under McKenzie’s jurisdiction, we should just ask him if we need anything."

Harvard, Berklee, MIT...

Even I, who didn’t know much about the U.S., had at least heard of those names. What was it? The Ivy League? Yeah, I think that’s what it was, though I never paid much attention. I was more concerned with passing the entrance exams, and now I found myself in a situation where I was stepping into one of those places—unbelievable.

But none of that mattered right now. At the moment, I was somewhere much more difficult to get into than any of those universities.

The important thing now wasn’t where I came from, but how fast and efficiently I could incapacitate my opponents.

While I was thinking about that, I saw Rapland, who had been looking at me with half-dead eyes, speak up.

"...So, are we going somewhere far this time?"

"Yeah, about 600 km round trip."

"Wait... are we jumping from the sky!?"

"No, it’s not like that. That distance can be covered with a Silent Hawk. But we’ll probably take a Valkyrie. You should be more familiar with the callsign Photon 1."

"Oh... that transport aircraft!"

"Yeah, that one."

As a trainee operations officer, Rapland surprisingly knew a lot. She was excited for a moment, but then quickly became gloomy again. It was obvious why—skydiving. Of course, it wasn’t the usual parachuting we all know. In fact, HALO and HAHO jumps are now more common terms.

I knew that specialized forces jump with a parachute and open it at a low altitude, but... why should I stay still when I've barely done it?

"Don't worry about the high-altitude jump. There's a special training facility within the secure zone. It can simulate the conditions almost perfectly, so you won’t have to jump out of an aircraft. It’s called a flight station."

"Flight station?"

"Yeah. It simulates conditions like rainy weather, strong winds, and other extreme conditions. The device creates strong winds and even holograms to practice landing."

"...Ah!"

"You saw how smoothly we did in Syracuse. It’s the same kind of technology."

Rapland’s expression brightened for a moment, but as she turned her attention to something else, I couldn’t help but feel a little bitter. While she was relieved, I knew what that meant—training until we adapted to those conditions.

I exchanged glances with Olivia and nodded in understanding.

The owl moved closer, sat beside Rapland, and spoke up. It was time to throw in the carrot.

"Our little furball."

"What's with that nickname!?"

"Don’t you want to wear the gear?"

There it was. Rapland froze.

But of course, there was more.

"Upper brass has approved it. Once we return from Boston, the test wear schedule is set."

"Eh...?"

"Because of your background, some features will be locked, but if you perform well in Boston, well... who knows? Some of those locked features might get unlocked before the schedule."

"That... uh..."

"Are you interested now?"

A brief silence.

After a moment, Rapland carefully took Olivia’s hand.

"I've always trusted Dagger Team."

"Of course."

Well... the outcome wasn’t exactly what I expected, but maybe it was for the best. I watched Rapland wag her tail and thought that maybe, just maybe, she’d do well.

The final preparation for the mission was in place, and August was fast approaching. The mission to Boston was going to happen soon.